Perfect Protection

We’ve all heard the rumor that a thriving population of alligators lives in the New York sewer system. That became popular in the 1950’s when local dime stores like Woolworths and Ben Franklins sold baby alligators as pets.

Actually Nate bought one of them as a school boy, bringing it home for his mother’s approval. He guessed she wouldn’t let him keep it, and after several days she did march him and his reptile back to the store for a refund. Other ‘gator owners chose to slip them down gutter drains or into sewer pipes when they grew too big to keep, which is how the sewer rumors got started.

As Nate matured, he learned how dangerous alligators could be and realized why his mother hadn’t let him keep his ‘gator when he’d pleaded to do so. She was simply protecting him from harm.

Do we ever take time to look back on the protective parenting God has done for us? If we do, we’ll notice how often he saves us from dangerous situations by overriding our poor decisions with his better alternatives. I remember one dramatic example of this as a college freshman. My roommate and I, part of a choir tour, were given one free evening to roam in a big university town.

The two of us chose to wander around the massive campus and went into the student union, looking for fun. Tacked on the bulletin board was a 3×5 card: “Party tonight in [dorm name], room 245.”

That sounded good to us, two sheltered 18 year olds without a shred of street smarts. We asked other students the way to the dorm and quickly found ourselves locked in a room with a group of rowdy boys already well-fueled on alcohol. The “party” wasn’t what we’d envisioned, and it became obvious the two of us were going to be the meat on the menu.

It’s a long story, but the bottom line was that God provided a way out, and we bolted away unscathed. Though we’d been sure of ourselves going in, the Lord knew better and saved us from our own stupidity. Looking back, we can see the recklessness of that night and are thankful for God’s intervention.

But what about those times when he doesn’t save, when he doesn’t prevent the accident or doesn’t heal the cancer? In Nate’s case, he chose not to stop a disease from taking him. Can we look back and see God’s protection? Gradually we’re gaining that exact perspective and are understanding that he did protect Nate… from having to live with debilitating pain and a slow deterioration. He also protected the rest of us from having to share in that.

But what about those cases where we look back and still can’t see how God protected? Can we trust that he did?

We can, for one good reason: his Son asked him to do so. Jesus prayed,

“Holy Father, protect them by the power of your name.” (John 17:11)

And God has been doing it ever since.

Patrolling the Piles

Our dog Jack is a good buddy, so I completely understand why so many people own these loyal, loving pets. But when I was growing up, leashing a dog was only appropriate in crowded metropolitan areas.

In the suburbs dogs roamed freely, getting acquainted with each other and holding regular “club meetings” in the neighborhood without human intervention. As for carrying plastic bags to gather up still-warm piles of doggie poo? No one had thought of that. But times have changed.

Jerry Seinfeld described our current pick-up custom this way:

If aliens are watching this through telescopes, they’re going to think the dogs are the leaders of the planet. If you see two life forms, one of them is making a poop, the other one’s carrying it for him, who would you assume is in charge?”

But the messy job of cleaning up after dogs has evolved into big business for willing takers. A quick Google search turned up hundreds of scooping entrepreneurs: Doggie Dung Squad, Poop 911, Doody Dude, Pet Butler, Tidy Turf, Scoop De-Doo, Tour of Doody, and many more. But what if a dog owner neither wants to pick up poo nor pay someone else to do it?

One building manager in New Hampshire had a negative relationship with 300 residential dogs because of what they produced. Debbie managed 375 apartments, and because the complex was dog-friendly, she had no trouble finding renters. The bad news was more than 2000 poops each week, many of which weren’t picked up by dog owners.

Maintenance men, frustrated by un-owned piles, complained to Debbie, who had no way to know who’s poo belonged to who.

Enter a company named Poo Prints.

Using the science of DNA, Poo Prints offered to cheek-swab resident dogs, then provide kits to DNA-test errant piles. Debbie signed on and insisted lease holders bring dogs in for swabbing, then announced $100 fines per uncollected pile. The entire complex was 99% poo-free in only one month.

I sympathize with Debbie but also with dog owners, since I sometimes justify Jack’s “product placement” (in the woods) as a reason to let it be. The question is, why do many of us feel we can be the exception to a rule?

It goes back to toddlerhood when each of us operated on a me-first basis and believed what we wanted trumped what everyone else wanted. It was sin then and still is now, an awfully hard habit to shake. As a matter of fact, shaking will never eradicate it. Scripture says, “I know that good itself does not dwell in me.” (Romans 7:18a)

Once we recognize that, we become willing to ask Another for help. Romans also says, “The Spirit helps us in our weakness.” (8:26) When we see ourselves being above the rules, it’s not an indicator of worth but of weakness. And God is happy to assist… by knocking us down a peg or two.

In Debbie’s case, a hefty fine was the exact knock-down needed.

“Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up.” (James 4:10)

Posted in Sin

How true…

Today I spent some time with a skin doctor here in Michigan who’s gradually becoming my friend. She’s invited me to call her by her first name (Deborah), which is a good thing since she runs her hands over every square inch of me.

Today Deborah was on a meticulous hunt for sun damage and skin cancer. Although the word “cancer” floods me with negatives, the words “skin cancer” have been part of our family since Mom began having spots removed 20 years ago.

Being raised on a Lake Michigan beach had numerous advantages, but the one disadvantage was a slow, steady assault on our youthful skin at a time when sun screens hadn’t been invented. We viewed sunburns as a happy signal that summer had arrived, and our parents believed a burn would eventually morph into the “base” for a safe and healthy tan. And tans, they thought, protected our skin for the rest of the summer.

We all know better now and have sun screens galore. Skin damage, though, is permanent, and beach lovers of my generation are all dotted with it. When I arrived home after my appointment, several projects awaited, one of which was reframing a few photographs. Amazingly, God linked one of them to my skin travails. I’d just had 11 pre-cancerous spots removed and was feeling decrepit, but he encouraged me with a lovely thought.

My very favorite “last picture” of Nate from all those taken during the 42 days he had cancer, had needed a better frame. It’s been sitting atop his high boy dresser in our bedroom as a daily reminder of my good history with him. This afternoon as I set the newly framed picture back in its spot next to a plaque Mary had given me, I caught my breath. I’d seen the picture hundreds of times and the plaque, too, but not until today, after a doctor’s appointment reminded me of my decline, did I link the two.

The plaque says, “The LORD your God is with you.”

Looking at Nate and I together in the picture, it struck me that the two of us now relate to that plaque in radically different ways. Although I know God is with me, his presence isn’t literal. Nate believes the statement, too, but for him it’s literally true.

Receiving that thought from the Lord lifted my sinking spirits, which had been completely focused on the inevitability of physical deterioration. It reminded me that one day bodily wear and tear will end for me, too, just as it has for Nate.

I hope I can  hang onto that positive thought long enough not to worry about what’s going to happen 6 months from now. That’s when Deborah is expecting me to swing by for another intimate visit.

“We know that the one who raised the Lord Jesus from the dead will also raise us with Jesus. Therefore we do not lose heart.” (2 Corinthians 4:14,16)